


Bertram Mitch Cunningham

by rvst



Series: Before and After [2]
Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, First Meetings, some kind of AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 08:44:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3685773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rvst/pseuds/rvst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carmilla fluttered out of the club with her head held high and another woman's lipstick on her neck. The rush of the New York air hit her with full force. She laughed and spun around, revelling in her new-found freedom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bertram Mitch Cunningham

Carmilla fluttered out of the club with her head held high and another woman's lipstick on her neck. The rush of the New York air hit her with full force. She laughed and spun around, revelling in her new-found freedom.

 

From her coffin. From Mother. From the War.

 

The cars seemed to fly by, their speed still amazing her to no end. The harsher edges of her mind were starting to smooth out, the maddening sameness of her time in the coffin receding with the bright lights of the big city.

 

Carmilla spent her days lounging around the penthouse apartment of a dead man and her nights hopping from club to bar to show to back-seat of a soldier woman's car.

 

It was a good life.

 

The first good life she'd ever had. Her alive life was guilt-ridden and troubled by pressures from her mother. Her first dead life was the same fuelled by a steam train, the guilt of murders and the crushing weight of Mother's expectations flattening her into the ground.

 

The coffin drove her mad and sane and mad again, but she was alone. Alone with her thoughts and alone in her decisions. However few she had available to her until she was churned up from the earth by the on-going war.

 

The high of her night out, the thirty-seventh in a row, left her unaware of her surroundings. She twirled through the foot traffic, ignoring the people muttering to each other about the wandering child who reeked of martini and cheap beer. The difference between her glittering dress and her shockingly old eyes stunned people for a moment, though they wouldn't remember the girl in the morning.

 

Carmilla turned a corner and found herself in front of a group of young gentlemen who stank of whiskey and moonshine. Their eyes feasted on the attractive young woman before them, not one noticing her feral grin and her very different hunger.

 

The men advanced on her, most of them with relatively honest intent. Carmilla could see one of them thinking about forcing himself, though the others had regular old lecherousness on the brain. Carmilla decided she didn't care.

 

They might think they were wild animals closing in for a kill.

 

They had no idea.

 

* * *

 

 

Carmilla was full. Boys who weren't soldiers always tasted better than the men who went off to war. Less stress was her current theory, but it could be a personal preference she was unaware she had.

 

The streets grew deserted during her meal. The cars kept passing by, and people still out on the side-walks quickly crossed the road to avoid Carmilla.

 

Some people were afraid of giant black predatory cats. Who knew?

 

Carmilla padded through the darkened streets, scaring the high class drunkards stumbling right on home and the local homeless who were too paralysed to move when faced with her. She didn't want any of them, there was only so much blood a girl could drink.

 

Many members of the local homeless weren't especially phased by a panther going walking by, the cat minded its own business and didn't harm any of them.

 

Carmilla picked up speed to go cause a ruckus elsewhere, the light of her night wouldn't fly away if she had anything to say about it. She crossed the road at super-feline speeds, darting in between cars and leaping over three at a time in a single bound. Small children out far past their bedtimes pointed at the dark streak, though their parents didn't believe them.

 

She let out the panther equivalent of a bellowing laugh and didn't see the car coming hurtling around the corner. Carmilla didn't hear it, too busy doing a roll out of the way of another car to the amusement of a little girl. Carmilla let her intimidating teeth show to the girl as she stood in the middle of the road. The little girl's eyes widened.

 

"Kitty!"

 

Her mother dragged the girl away as Carmilla heard the car coming. There was nothing she could do from her standstill. If only she were still moving. Getting hit by a car going at nearly full speed wasn't something she had a chance to experience yet, and it wasn't one she was looking forward to experiencing now.

 

A monster grabbed her, screamed the feline part of her brain she had to allow presence inside her to achieve her transformation. The monster was large and warm. The beast hauled her into its arms and Carmilla didn't think it would take her for a trick of the light. Most humans put her existence down to an urban legend.

 

Like vampires. Totally ridiculous.

 

The car screeched and honked as it went hurtling right on by Carmilla and the hulking beast hauling her off the road. She desperately wanted to shift back into her more human form. A black panther tended to stick out in the middle of New York City, even in the almost quiet hours before the dawn. Carmilla weighed the relative strangeness of a panther or a girl who was a panther. Neither seemed especially plausible by whoever saved her from the wrath of the car smelled like the street so she didn't thing they would be believed anyway.

 

They barrelled into some pallets discarded by some shifty company, Carmilla landing several feet away from her saviour. The car that nearly flattened her did not stop. Carmilla didn't expect it to, but anger bubbled to the surface anyway.

 

"Good kitty," said the fairly large lump of human woman. Carmilla froze, stopping her consideration of the best way to escape.

 

Carmilla got to her feet, paws, first. The woman was propping herself up on her elbows and staring down the giant black cat with an amused quirk to her lips. She seemed nonplussed by the panther before her, growling quietly and glaring at her like she was hungry for a three course meal. Carmilla snarled to make the woman realise her mistake and run away from the clear threat she'd just saved from being hit by a car.

 

"Growl all you want, but that won't make you anything other than a really weird Eastern European girl," the would-be hero called just loud enough for potential other people on the street to hear her words. "Can you make yourself back into a real girl?"

 

Now Carmilla wanted to rip her throat out. Looking over the woman, there was a whole lot of throat to rip. A whole lot more body and two strikingly blue eyes tracking her own with fascinated and challenging interest.

 

"I watched you leave that club and go into the alleyway. Then there was a big old cat and I made an educated guess. At least you aren't a Russian spy, no one over there is that stupid," the woman rambled. Carmilla spotted tendrils of bright red hair spilling out of her newsboy cap. Carmilla could see the woman passing for a man, obviously something she was low-key attempting.

 

Carmilla rolled her eyes and nudged the woman with her head before darting off into another darkened offshoot of the New York streets. She loved this town, it was the easiest place in the world for a vampire to hide with all the comforts of modern living.

 

The shift back into a human-like form hurt as much as it always did, and she allowed the woman to sneak up behind her. Her footsteps were light and far more careful that Carmilla would expect for someone of her stature. Giants weren't known for their subtlety.

 

"How did you know I'm from Europe?" Carmilla asked, genuinely curious. She ran her hands through her hair, getting it to settle just right.

 

"Didn't. Do now," she replied, smug as all hell. There was a click. Carmilla spun around to find a German-issued pistol aimed directly at her heart. "Now, what are you?"

 

Carmilla woke from decades of slumber in the middle of a battle and this was the first time she'd ever had a gun pulled on her. She was as curious about it as she was a speeding car or an airplane or a tall building to fall off. A new thing to experience.

 

"Something bullets won't kill," answered Carmilla without hesitation. "You got a name, Nazi killer?"

 

The woman recoiled for half a second before she remembered the easiest origins of the gun in her hand. "Danny."

 

"Odd name for a girl."

 

"You have an odd shape for a girl," came the retort somewhat lamely. The woman, Danny, winced at her own awkwardness. Carmilla smirked. "Not going to kill me?"

 

"Just ate." Carmilla licked her lips. Danny swallowed, dark eyes following as her throat moved. Carmilla would give her credit for how level her heart rate was keeping. Most people who figured out half of her secrets went running in the other direction, hearts pumping away. Some even died of heart attacks before Carmilla could worry about being exposed. "Kind of curious, too."

 

Danny lowered the gun and tucked it away. "You aren't going to tell me anything are you?"

 

Carmilla sauntered up to the much, much taller woman. She took a second to be intimidated by this fact and reminded herself that she could throw a car at this woman if she wanted. Danny dropped her dark green bag, losing any upper hand she may have had as it fell to the ground. Carmilla swung her hips in victory and delighted as blue eyes followed every single movement.

 

“If you can find me again,” Carmilla drawled, tracing her fingers lightly down Danny's suspender, “then I will tell you everything.”

 

The other woman stared down at her, as mystified and enraptured as every other woman Carmilla decided to seduce. “Sounds fair.”

 

Carmilla pulled back, tugging at the deep blue suspender to affirm her interest. “I never go to the same club twice.”

 

The damn woman smirked. “I'm sure I'll manage, miss,” she said. Danny picked up her military pack and wander off into an alleyway. Carmilla watched her go with interest, then forgot about her the second she was out of sight.

 

* * *

 

 

"Who is Bertram Mitch Cunningham?"

 

Carmilla stopped moving just inside the doorway to her stolen apartment. Both the name and the voice were vaguely familiar though she could place neither. There was an even more familiar click from the direction her her overly-expensive couch. "Nazi killer," she whispered to herself, a rush of blue eyes and red hair pushing itself to the forefront of her memories.

 

"Hey there, kitty."

 

Carmilla leaned her back against her door and crossed her legs just so, the slit in her dress pulling apart. "It's been six months, I was beginning to lose faith in your tracking abilities."

 

Danny put the gun down with the visual confirmation that she had the right place. Carmilla noted this with interest, most people didn't take her at face value when she claimed she wasn't a threat to them. She reached into her coat pocket and produced a white slip of paper. "I pulled this from your purse when you were trying to get into my pants."

 

Suddenly, she was right back to wanting to tear this woman's throat out, still beating jugular vein and all. No one since her resurgence from the battleground had belittled her skills and self-awareness in such a way. Danny's smirk wasn't helping Carmilla's silent annoyance. She couldn't know how close she was to a very quick, extremely violent death.

 

"I would say succeeding since you are in my house," Carmilla snapped shortly. She threw her purse onto the kitchen counter and slowly made her way over to gracefully lay in a heap in her armchair. Danny laughed loud and sharp.

 

"This is Bertram Mitch Cunningham's house. Are all vampires who are occasionally predatory cats quite this graceful or are you special?"

 

Carmilla went to argue that the question was offensive, or at least too intimate for a second date. Or any multitude of cutting remarks about Danny's hair, height, or general death wish. A pale hand was against her mouth, stopping all speech from escaping. Carmilla must have been exhausted or far too at ease to allow this human woman to get this close without any kind of defence being mounted.

 

"I found you again," Danny whispered, kneeling before the vampire. "I'll start easier for you. Do you have a name?"

 

Carmilla kept her eyes locked on to Danny's sparkling blue. The hand slowly removed itself from her mouth. Carmilla nearly wanted to answer without a struggle. Nearly.

 

"What do I get if I tell you?" Carmilla asked, sitting upright in her armchair. Danny leaned back on her toes in allow some space for Carmilla to swing her legs. She moved right back in when Carmilla was settled. Carmilla could get used to having her down there, all subservient and cloying.

 

"I'll tell you how I got the gun," offered Danny. "I didn't kill a Nazi."

 

Carmilla raised an eyebrow. "It's Carmilla."

 

Danny hopped to her feet and flopped onto Carmilla's couch like she lived here. Technically, neither did Carmilla so she let it slide. "Definitely Eastern European."

 

"It's new," she admitted without being prompted. Sharing new information never settled well with her but it felt important if they were going to spend more than thirty seconds around each other. "I was born Mircalla."

 

"That's even more Eastern European," Danny nearly shouted. Carmilla laughed. "And probably a by-product of the vampire thing?"

 

Carmilla laughed even louder.

 

"Do I look like freaking Dracula to you?"

 

A throw pillow came flying at her head. She let it hit her, and threw it back as hard as she could. Danny screamed with alarm and then groaned in pain as it struck her in the side. "No, you are so much worse than Dracula!"

 

Carmilla let the human gather herself, and her composure. Danny clutched at her aching ribs and gave Carmilla the most pitiful look she'd ever seen. Carmilla was fucking old, many sad puppies and kittens were in her past. This woman was out-doing all of them. "Any other questions?"

 

"Was that a yes or a no on vampire?" Danny's pain was gone in an instant. Carmilla wanted to know where the ability to snap between moods at will came from. "And you don't want the gun story?"

 

"Yes," Carmilla answered the first question first and flashed her fangs as a way of proving her claim, "and you have a German pistol. I need to know why."

 

Guns fascinated her, especially the newer ones. Finally something that might be on par with the destructive forces of Carmilla's world and the species' therein. The attacks on Japan had her buying and stealing any and all newspapers she could get her hands on. The information she found was beyond scary and stopped being interested in anything bigger than a single person could carry.

 

"Have you ever committed treason?"

 

Oh yes, Carmilla liked this human.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> More of this too, yay!
> 
> As usual, comment if you want more and/or liked it!
> 
> Or if you want another odd AU to happen, which I'm open to writing.
> 
> For if-you-seek-amy over on tumblr


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